


The One Where Blaine Doesn't Wear Parachute Pants

by Mika-chan (mikarin)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikarin/pseuds/Mika-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt picked up that French press at the thrift store, he didn't expect <em>this</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> In light of finally taking my licensing exam and not having to study anymore...I wrote these cracky, angst-free drabbles. I’m not ignoring canon, but I think I’m all angsted out at the moment, which is saying something because I love angst. Enjoy!

"You're wearing a bow tie."  
  
Blaine paused, mid-introduction, his arms faltering from where they were held aloft (and with gusto) on either side of his body.  "I...Is it too much?" he asked uncertainly, brow furrowing as he glanced about for a mirror.  When he spotted the full length mirror behind him, he turned around to survey his outfit.  
  
The corners of Kurt's lips twitched. "Er...no. It...really compliments your ensemble," he finished lamely, despite it being true. The red accessory coupled with the white button down and navy vest was nothing less than charming on the curly-haired teen.  Still, it didn't make it any less bizarre that a boy—a very cute looking boy—was standing in the middle of his bedroom, where only seconds before he was apparently present inside of the _coffee press_ Kurt just bought.  But, you know, _bow ties_. It was just about all Kurt could manage to focus on at the moment.  
  
Blaine beamed as he spun back around and piped, "Thanks!"  
  
Kurt cleared his throat. "You're welcome.”  His eyes swept across the other’s body once more before saying, “It's just...well...I thought genie attire was pretty standard."  
  
Blaine blinked once, tilting his head to the side in apparent confusion.  So, Kurt explained, "You know, parachute pants and elf shoes—not..." Kurt waved his hands a little helplessly. "...something you would see on the cover of Vogue."  
  
Blaine's eyes widened at that. "Last month's issue was phenomenal, wasn't it?" he gushed.  
  
"Yes—I mean, _no_ , that's not the point!"  
  
Kurt's slightly hysterical voice echoed loudly off his bedroom walls, and he pressed his hand to his mouth once he realized he was shouting. In the awkward silence that followed, Blaine stared at Kurt while Kurt stared mutely back.  
  
"So, my _clothes_ are throwing you off," Blaine said in careful, even tones so as not to be misunderstood, "and not the fact that I just materialized out of that old French press?"  
  
Kurt felt heat rise to his cheeks.  "Well, when you put it like that, I feel all sorts of ridiculous now."  
  
"Don't feel ridiculous..." Blaine trailed off and looked at him expectantly.  
  
"...Kurt."

“Kurt,” Blaine repeated carefully as if savoring the word.  Then, "Master." And if possible, Kurt’s face heated up more. "My name is Blaine, and I _am_ a genie, who felt parachute pants were so very 64 B.C. I still have the shoes though. They're a great ice breaker."  
  
Blaine winked, and Kurt huffed out a surprised laugh.  Encouraged, Blaine, with that ever present and warm smile, continued, "I'm here to grant you three wishes, Master." With his head bowed and the palm of his right hand pressed over his chest, Blaine looked up at Kurt and said, "What will they be?"


	2. The (Potential) Wishes

"Wait, what do you mean you can't grant world peace? Not that that's my wish—oh, that came across rather selfish didn't it...?" Kurt muttered looking somewhat appalled when his eyes met Blaine’s before resuming his trek around the room.

Blaine rocked back and forth on his heels, a patient smile on his face as his eyes trailed after Kurt. Kurt who—after finally being convinced that Blaine was in fact a bona fide genie when he summoned a flock of canaries to harmonize the theme song to _I Dream of Jeannie_ —was pacing about the room debating on what he should do—what he should _wish_ for. Kurt pivoted one last time before settling in front of Blaine. "So...why no to world peace?” he asked curiously. "Are we so screwed up that even magic can’t fix us? Or is it too difficult?"

"It's not that I don't want to," Blaine denied, his hands clasped behind his back. "Or that it isn’t possible. Let’s just say that it never works out the way people expect and usually results in the wish being reversed." Blaine leaned forward, eyes earnest as he said, "I would rather you didn’t waste a wish, Master."

Kurt felt as if he should ask more about that, but let it go for the moment. "Okay,” Kurt replied dubiously. Then said, “What if I wished paisley was never invented. Is that doable?"

Blaine looked taken aback for a moment before his forehead crinkled into a frown. "But Kurt, I don’t think you're giving the understated design that is paisley enough credit. I mean just look at—"

"Blaine."

At Kurt’s unamused stare, Blaine lowered his eyes to his converse clad feet and admitted reluctantly, "...Yes, that’s grantable.”

A slow grin spread across Kurt's face. "Excellent."


	3. The Quarterly DAWG Meeting

"Genie Blaine."

"Present!" Blaine said, right hand shooting up into the air.  Wes sighed.  
  
"Yes, we established that already during roll call, Blaine." Blaine continued to smile, completely unrepentant, which prompted Nick to laugh beside him.  
  
Wes shot Nick a pointed glare that had the latter coughing into his fist before falling silent. "In any case," Wes continued, "I hear you have a new Master."  
  
Blaine visibly perked up at this. "Yes! His name is Kurt Hummel, and he wanted me to get rid of paisley."  
  
Trent sputtered in protest, hand automatically moving to the paisley handkerchief he kept in his left breast pocket. Blaine was quick to reassure him. "I managed to convince him otherwise though."  
  
"Thank, Allah," Trent breathed out in relief and the tension in his shoulders eased. Meanwhile, Wes' left eye began to twitch involuntarily. Taking pity on his co-chairman, David chastised Blaine on his behalf. "Blaine, what have we said about influencing a Master's wishes?"  
  
Blaine straightened, cleared his throat, and recited in rote, "Under no circumstances are Genies permitted to guide or manipulate the wishes of our Masters."  
  
“However...” David prompted when Blaine stopped.  
  
"However, Genies are permitted and strongly encouraged to interfere under the following two conditions and only these two conditions.” Blaine pointed his right index finger into the air. “The first being the annihilation of the human race and/or the support of genocide.  Animals are included, of course."  
  
There were several approving nods and murmurs of consent throughout the room.  
  
"Second, the..." Here Blaine faltered, his expression falling and he seemed unable to continue.  A hand slid into his and when he glanced down, Nick squeezed it in support.  Blaine shared a small smile with his friend before he inhaled a fortifying breath and said, "The...the abolishment of a cappella."  
  
Cries of outrage filled the air.  
  
"Who would _dare_?!"  
  
"Blasphemy!"

“You mock us, _sir_!”  
  
David side eyed Thad, who looked ready to pounce across the table and throttle Blaine for even mentioning it.  Wes pounded his gavel to restore order.  When the room settled once more (which took considerably longer than the last time the Dalton Academy Warbling Genies got riled up and that involved updating the PowerPoint presentation used to advocate a cappella), Wes said, "I trust you to abide by these rules, Genie Blaine. They are there for a reason."  
  
Blaine nodded graciously, accepting the reprimand. "Of course." A beat passed. "Before we move on, I think it appropriate at this juncture to admit that I also likely convinced Kurt Hummel not to wish for world peace,” Blaine stated eyes focused just over Wes’ right shoulder. “But we all know how well that ever works out.” Blaine bit his lip at the ensuing silence and chanced a glance at Wes and yep, his left eye was twitching again.  Despite the fact that the majority of the room was in agreement with him, if their nods were any indication, the DAWG co-chairman didn’t appear mollified in the least.

“It won’t happen again,” Blaine promised in a rush and then winced. “...probably.”

Wes closed his eyes and sighed.


	4. The Other Hummel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burt Hummel wasn't so easily surprised by much anymore. Until Blaine that is. Blaine surprised the hell out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t planning on adding more to this story and yet 2000 words later...This particular part is set between 203 (Grilled Cheesus) and 208 (Furt). So, it’s more serious than the previous drabbles. If I add more to this 'verse, it's going to continue to be just certain scenes I would like to see played out. Enjoy!

Burt Hummel was a roll with the punches kind of guy. After the unexpected and early death of his wife, he learned that life threw you the occasional (heart- and gut-wrenching) curveball and there was nothing you could do, but step up, take a swing, and see what happened. So, when he stopped to grab a parts catalog he'd forgotten at home, he was more curious than surprised when he heard singing coming from Kurt's bedroom. Kurt who was supposed to be in school at this hour, but from the sound of it was clearly _not_. The closer he approached the basement door, however, he realized it wasn't his kid singing (because Kurt’s voice was unmistakable). Hackles raised, Burt doubled back to the hall closet, grabbed the rarely used baseball bat, and slowly eased Kurt's door open.

Almost immediately an unfamiliar and extremely upbeat tune filled the air.

_"It's a blacked out blur But I'm pretty sure it ruled"_

As Burt quietly descended the stairs—making sure to bypass the squeaky step—he had to give the robber some credit. He was no expert, but even he could tell how good he sounded. Still, it didn't negate the fact that he was in his home, doing God knows what in his kid's room.

Finally reaching the last step that would still be obscured by the stairwell wall, Burt peered cautiously around the corner and was in for the surprise of his life.

It wasn't the boy that was dancing aimlessly around Kurt's room, a magazine in his hands, and singing at the top of his lungs that surprised Burt (okay, that's a lie. It wasn't THE most surprising thing he saw). It was the myriad of cleaners, feather dusters, and cloths flying around the room and washing any visible surface that shocked the hell out of him.

Burt mechanically took the last few steps into the room, the bat he held falling limply to his side, and shouted, "What the hell is going on here?"

Two things happened in quick succession.

First, everything froze—in mid air for chrissakes—and the dark-haired boy stared at him with eyes wide as saucers.

Second, everything—including the damn kid—suddenly disappeared, with the exception of the magazine he held, which plopped onto the floor in a crumpled heap.

Barely a second later, the kid reappeared, picked up the magazine, and smoothed it out carefully on Kurt's bed before disappearing again with an audible poof.

Burt took a moment to scrub his eyes in disbelief before slowly scanning the room. "Okay," he said not really expecting an answer, but felt the need to say something. He stood there for a while longer until the shock was eventually overridden by his need to know what the hell was going on.

"Look," he said to the room at large, "You and I both know I didn't imagine that, and since it seems all you were doing was cleaning my son's room, I'm assuming you're not here to harm anything but dust mites."

Silence was his only response and Burt sighed. "Is it the bat? Here, look, I'm putting it down." Burt rested said object against the nearest wall before taking a few steps away from it. "I'm not going to hurt you," he added just to be clear. "Just wondering what's going on. You have to admit seeing a complete stranger in my supposedly empty house is a cause for concern, right?"

Burt waited, but was met with more silence for his efforts. "Are you one of those cleaning elves?" he tried instead, injecting some humor into his voice. "Because if you're up to it, my attic's seen better days."

Burt was damned sure that would merit some kind of response, a small chuckle even, but received nothing of the sort. “Look, I can wait here all day.” Burt’s voice was frank now as he crossed the floor and settled himself on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “I once sat through ten straight hours of _Project Runway_ with Kurt, who had something to say about _every_ outfit sewn. So, I know how to be patient.”

He crossed his arms and waited the kid out.

Finally, a very hesitant and timid voice said, "Um, no, Sir. I'm not an elf."

Burt released a low breath, happy that he was finally getting somewhere and equally relieved that he wasn't, in fact, going crazy. "Okay. Well, that's a little disappointing."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sir," was the immediate response and it caused Burt to frown.

“There's no need to apologize,” he said. “Though if you’re not an elf, would you mind telling me who you are? It's not every day a man sees someone disappear and reappear without the use of smoke or mirrors."

The not-an-elf was quiet again for some time. "...I'm not at liberty to say, Sir,” he said at length. “Perhaps when Mas—um, Kurt returns, he can tell you? If it so pleases him, of course."

Burt narrowed his eyes at the choice of words and made a mental note to have _several_ conversations with Kurt this afternoon regardless of what this kid suggested. The topmost conversation being how he thought he could hide a boy in his room for God knew how long and thinking he could get away with it. Kurt was going to get an earful.

That was later though. Right now Burt had to figure out who, or what, this kid was.

"You mind if we continue this conversation face-to-face?" Burt asked. "I'm not sure which direction to speak to, and I think it's only polite."

Without delay, the kid popped back into the room a few feet from Burt, eyes trained to the floor and hands nervously twisting the hem of his navy sweater. There was no mistaking how uncomfortable the other was and being as he was responsible for the behavior, Burt felt the need to put him at ease. He supposed it was the inherent dad in him.

"Hey," he said as non-threatening as possible, "I'm not mad. My name’s Burt Hummel.” He extended his hand out. “’Mind letting me know who I’m speaking to at least?”

The boy, who upon closer inspection looked no older than Kurt, lifted his eyes, straightened his back, and reached out to shake Burt’s hand. “Blaine, Sir.” At Burt’s raised eyebrows, Blaine said, “Just Blaine, Sir. It’s—it’s a pleasure to meet you. Kurt has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

“He has, huh?” Burt replied tone amused as he released Blaine’s hand.

Blaine nodded the stiffness in his shoulders gradually relaxing. "Yes,” he said, the edges of his lips curling up into a small smile, “You’re an exceptional father, Mr. Hummel.”

The frankness and sincerity of the statement gave Burt reason to pause. Perhaps it was the way Blaine’s fingers curled as if wanting to form fists when he delivered the words or the solemn look in his eyes that belied the smile on his lips. Regardless, Burt had a strong feeling there was more to the compliment than what was on the surface.

“That’s some hefty praise,” Burt finally said, quelling his curiosity for the time being as he was afraid he'd spook the kid into silence again. “I’ll give you some credit, Kid. You sure know how to swell a guy’s head.”

The teasing tone extracted the reaction Burt was aiming for. Blaine smiled a more carefree one now and he ducked his head in apparent embarrassment.

“So, do you live around here?” Burt asked, hoping to get at least a few of the simpler questions squared away.

“At the moment, yes,” Blaine replied with an inscrutable smile.

“At the moment,” Burt echoed and scratched the side of his head. “Your family move around a lot?”

Blaine shook his head. “No, Sir. I...I’ve been on my own for a while now.”

Burt frowned. “How old are you exactly?” he asked, leaning forward to scrutinize him more closely.

Blaine tilted his head to the side as if contemplating the answer before finally settling on, “Older than I look.” 

Burt’s frown deepened. “Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

Blaine bit his lip to prevent a smile from forming, but Burt saw it anyway. “Probably not, Sir.”

Burt sat back again and eyed the other warily. “I don’t suppose you talk to Kurt like this, do you? Because I can’t see him liking it.”

“No, Sir,” Blaine was quick to deny. “I would never—Kurt’s...” Blaine trailed off and he lowered his eyes to the floor. He then inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly before meeting Burt’s eyes. “Would it be all right if we postponed this conversation until Kurt returns home?”

Burt thought it over, taking this moment to really study Blaine. Despite all the non answers he received, Blaine seemed like a good kid overall and with manners to spare. There was nothing screaming at him that Blaine was trouble either. So, he agreed, but on one condition.

“Answer this one question truthfully and I won’t bug you with anything else until Kurt gets back.” Burt held out his hand. “Deal?”

Blaine looked down at his hand then back at Burt. “May I ask what the question is first?”

Burt dropped his hand back to his knee, eyes still trained on Blaine. “All right,” he said. “Do you and Kurt talk a lot?”

Blaine visibly relaxed upon hearing the question, and inclined his head once. “Yes. Every day," he replied and looked like he was about to say more, but in the end kept his mouth shut.

Burt rubbed his hand tiredly across his head and nodded vaguely a few times. “That’s good. I...I'm not looking for you to break any confidences. It’s just, I _know_ something’s going on with Kurt that’s he’s not telling me," he laid out bluntly. "And if he’s not willing to share what’s bothering him with me, I feel a whole lot better knowing he at least has someone he can talk to.” Burt released a tired sigh, eyes straying to a photograph of Kurt, Ann, and himself on the far dresser. Kurt was about three in that photo, and it was taken during their first outing together to the park. He recalled how sunny it was that day and how there were enough smiles and laughter to rival any comedy club on a given night.

There weren’t many smiles from Kurt lately and even less so in regards to laughter. Something was up with him, but whenever he asked, Kurt would just say everything was fine. With the stiff way he held himself around the house, Kurt was anything _but_ fine.

“Ever since my heart attack," Burt continued to explain, "the kid’s been one giant knot of worry, but it’s something more than that. I...” Burt released a frustrated breath and shook his head. “Like I said, it’s good to know he’s talking to someone, and I would appreciate it if you continue listening to him and to let me know if he's ever in any serious trouble."

“I would never let anything happen to him, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine stated vehemently, the very air seeming to crackle around him and caused Burt’s attention to snap back to the teen. “Never.” Blaine emphasized the word tightly, hands clenched, and Burt couldn't help but take him seriously. The dark clouds that rolled across Kurt’s ceiling certainly helped too.

A smile tugged onto Burt's face. “Good to know,” he said and tipped his head up to the ceiling. “You mind getting rid of the storm clouds though? It’s a little unsettling seeing them indoors.”

Blaine’s tight expression smoothed into one of confusion and he glanced up. His eyes widened at what he saw. “I’m sorry!” he gasped out, clearly flustered as he waved his arms frantically until the black clouds faded away.

Burt laughed and whatever misgivings he felt towards Blaine was wiped out in that moment. This kid was okay. Magic or no magic (what other explanation could there be?), it looked as though he and Kurt were good friends. Knowing that was a tremendous relief.

Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t rag on him a little bit. “That’s an interesting parlor trick you got there, Blaine,” Burt said, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

Blaine bit his lip uncertainly in response, but in the face of Burt’s encouraging look, a sheepish grin eventually grew across his face. “Thank you,” he said simply.

Burt pushed himself off Kurt’s bed and clapped Blaine once on the shoulder. “Come on. You must be bored hanging out in here. Why don’t I take you out to lunch?”

Blaine raised both of his hands in front of him—palms facing outward—and was already shaking his head no. “Oh, no, no. I’m fine, Mr. Hummel. I’m not bored at all.”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Burt said, nudging Blaine until he turned around and then proceeded to frog-march him across the floor and up the stairs. “I’ve been meaning to try out this new burger joint by my garage.”

Blaine gasped (which was a little overdramatic if you asked him) and began to drag his feet at this new bit of information. “B-But your diet, Mr. Hummel. Kurt would _kill_ me!”

“Huh. Kurt told you about that?” Burt replied thoughtfully as he grabbed his car keys and jacket, the latter of which he pressed into Blaine’s hands. “Well, it’s just this once. I’ll even skip the fries—”

“As you should!” Blaine squeaked as he was shuffled out the front door and to the pick-up truck parked on the driveway.

“Don’t be a stick in the mud, Blaine,” Burt ribbed as he unlocked the car doors and stepped into the driver’s side.

Blaine reluctantly got in as well when Burt started the engine and folded the loaned jacket neatly over his lap. He then turned a very suspicious look in Burt’s direction. “Just the one burger, right?”

Burt humored him, knowing full well why he was so concerned. Kurt was a force to be reckoned with, and you never wanted to be on his bad side. “Scout’s honor,” he promised.

Blaine’s intense stare didn’t diminish in the least. “And no french fries?”

“No french fries,” Burt parroted.

Blaine nodded, finally relaxing into his seat, and Burt took that as his cue to back out of the driveway and onto the main road. They traveled in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think they have strawberry milkshakes?” Blaine asked tentatively at the next red traffic light, and Burt smiled.

“They sure do, Kid.”

Blaine grinned before catching himself and declared gravely, “Just this once though.”

Burt snorted, but agreed. “Sure, Kid. Just this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine was singing _Last Friday Night - Katy Perry_


	5. The Hummels Plus Blaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt knew he couldn’t hide Blaine forever, but he didn’t think his dad would find out so soon.

Kurt’s heart began to beat furiously when he pulled up his driveway and saw his dad's truck there. It was just a little after four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon and his dad was never home from work this early. His mind raced trying to recall a reason why his dad was home, but came up blank, which only perpetuated his growing panic.

In the aftermath of his father’s heart attack, Kurt wasn’t prepared to face anything even remotely off routine. His blood pressure simply couldn’t handle it. Blaine popping out of that coffee press last month didn’t really help matters either, but given that Blaine was serving as his lifeline lately, Kurt would gladly let his blood pressure spike if it meant having Blaine there to talk to everyday.

Turning off the engine to his car, Kurt grabbed his things and quickly made his way into his house.

"Dad?" he called out once he opened the front door.

"In here." He heard his dad's answering voice from further inside the house. His voice sounded normal enough and Kurt allowed his body to relax a fraction before he closed the door, shifted his bag more comfortably over his shoulder, and made his way down the hallway.

"What are you doing home so..." Kurt trailed off as he turned the last corner and saw his dad and Blaine seated on opposite couches in the family room. He stood there frozen, eyes darting from his father, who had on his patented "you have a lot of explaining to do" look to Blaine, who waved at him weakly from the two-seater couch, a guilty expression on his face.

Kurt struggled to think of what to say and simultaneously attempting to gauge how much his dad knew from his expression alone. He couldn’t get a read on his dad though and in a last ditch effort, spared a quick glance to Blaine for help. Blaine wouldn’t meet his eyes, however, his attention focused entirely on the carpeted floor.

Turning back to his father, who continued to watch him patiently, Kurt finally stammered out, "Dad, I can expl—"

"We went to a burger place!" Blaine blurted out and both Hummel men snapped their attention to him in disbelief.

"Holy crap, Kid!" Burt shouted a stunned look on his face. "You didn't even last three hours!"

"You...what?" Kurt asked weakly, still rather shell-shocked that his father and Blaine were in the same room together.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hummel," Blaine apologized in a rush, his hands once again twisting the bottom of his sweater. If Kurt was capable of movement at the moment, he would have reached out to still his hands. As it was, the article of clothing was now two times larger than originally and essentially a lost cause.

"I thought I could keep your confidence," Blaine continued dejectedly, "but I can't lie to Mas—Kurt. I'm really, really _sorry_."

Burt wiped a hand across his face before looking cautiously over to his son. Kurt didn't look angry. In fact, he looked just about how _he_ felt when he first stumbled across Blaine. "Kurt? Buddy?" he began warily, "I know it goes against the doctor's orders, but it was just one burger."

"A garden burger," Blaine added helpfully.

Burt nodded. "Yeah, a garden—wait, a what?" Burt turned a confused look to Blaine, who explained haltingly.

"A garden burger. It's made of rice and vegetables. I, um, may have switched it out..." Here he waggled his fingers and Kurt choked upon seeing the movement. "...after you picked up your order." Blaine smiled uncertainly at both Burt and Kurt and it was the former who cracked first.

Burt started to laugh and it was especially loud in the previously silent room.

"You got some nerve, Kid." Burt shook his head, still laughing.

Blaine's smile grew more confident now. "You liked it though," he pointed out. "Even though you thought it had a weird texture."

Burt chuckled one last time before facing his son again. Kurt still hadn't moved and actually appeared a shade paler. "Hey, you all right there, Kurt?"

"Honestly," Kurt stated in a daze. "I don’t know. I'm still trying to decide if my being angry with you for going to a place like that will make you forget about Blaine here. I have a feeling though that it isn't likely."

"No, Kid, it won't." Burt sighed and motioned for him to come into the room. "Come on. Let's all be in the same room for this conversation."

Kurt walked stiffly into the room and after an internal debate, sat down beside his father. He lowered his satchel carefully onto the floor before inhaling a deep breath and said, "So, I see you've met Blaine."

The right side of Burt's lip twitched into a half smile. "Sure did," he said. "Heard singing coming from your room..." Both Hummel men looked over to Blaine, who ducked his head and began fiddling with his top again. "...So, I went to check it out."

"I see," Kurt said. "And did you..." he trailed off not wanting to say more without knowing if his dad saw Blaine using magic. Blaine didn't exactly make him promise not to tell anyone about him. Rather, he explained how it wasn't a good idea. How the more people knew about him being a genie, the more dangerous it could become. Kurt didn't like the idea of lying to his father especially if he was asked outright—like he was now, but he would do it if Blaine asked him to. It was the least he could do after the many nights Blaine stayed up listening to him talk about his worries over his dad’s health and the bullying at school. Fortunately, though, Blaine spoke up before Kurt had to make any kind of decision.

"He saw Kurt," Blaine told him, smiling ruefully, and Kurt expelled a relieved breath. "Okay, and did you—"

"No," Blaine cut in, knowing exactly what he was about to ask. "I...I wanted to wait and see if you wanted to let him know. You already know how I feel about telling people about myself, but after spending the afternoon with your father, I'm fine with it if you are."

Kurt nodded once. "All right." He turned to his dad who had his arms folded across his chest and was watching him expectantly. "Blaine's a genie," he stated without further preamble. "I found him in the thrift store."

Burt's eyebrows shot up and he looked over to Blaine. "A genie?" Blaine bobbed his head once in consensus and Burt gave his son a funny look. "And you wished for him to do your chores?"

Kurt pulled his head back in surprise. "No," he replied slowly, evidently confused. "I haven't made any wishes yet."

Blaine coughed once into his closed fist and inevitably caught their attentions.

"I may have done that on my own," Blaine admitted. "You seemed so stressed lately. So, I thought you might feel better if your room was clean."

"Oh," Kurt breathed out, feeling his stomach flutter. "Thank you."

Blaine smiled. "You're welcome."

Burt alternated looking at both boys as they continued to smile at each other in silence. "Are you two...?" Burt waved a hand between them both and while Blaine's brow furrowed in confusion, Kurt immediately caught on to what his dad was insinuating.

"No!" Kurt denied loudly, cheeks flaring as he glanced quickly at Blaine. "Dad, just...no."

"All right, all right," Burt said lowering his hands back atop his knees. "Just askin'. Don’t need to bite my head off."

Kurt shot a glare at his dad, who just shrugged in response and was clearly trying to bite back a laugh.

"Is there anything else you would like to know, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine interjected lightly and pulled Kurt away from glaring a hole through his father. "I'll try to answer as honestly as I'm able."

Burt braced his elbows on his knees and leant forward, very much intent on taking up Blaine’s offer. “No games?” he questioned.

Blaine smiled faintly. “I’ll do my best,” he responded truthfully.

Burt started with an easy one, testing the waters. "How many wishes does Kurt get?"

"Three, Sir," Blaine answered promptly and Burt nodded.

“And do you grant these wishes to the letter? Say you wished for something like good health. Will you end up living forever, which isn’t what you wanted?”

Burt received an odd look from Kurt for that question, but disregarded it. He wanted to make sure that this wasn’t going to backfire on Kurt—that Kurt would be _safe_.

Blaine on the other hand seemed to take him quite seriously as a solemn expression settled across his features. “I will grant Kurt’s wishes as he intended,” he replied, voice void of any humor. “It’s true that djinns exist who behave as you've described, but I’m not one of them.”

Burt didn't think so either, but he still needed to make sure. “That’s good to hear,” he said, the last thread of tension uncoiling from his stomach. “What happens after his wishes are granted?"

Blaine blinked. "He...gets what he wished for?" Blaine replied slowly, clearly perplexed at the question.

"To you," Burt clarified. "What happens to you? Do you disappear?"

Blaine straightened at that. "Oh, um, no. I don't disappear per se. It's really up to my master," he explained. "I can't be summoned by my old master anymore after he or she has made their wishes. Nor can I move freely from my vessel. So, unless they give me to someone else, I'm usually buried or hidden away in their home until someone else finds me."

It didn’t matter how many times he’d heard this already; Kurt still couldn't help but cringe upon hearing Blaine say he was buried for years on end so matter-of-factly. It didn't look like his dad was handling it well either.

"Buried?" Burt echoed in disbelief and shock. "That...that's a bit extreme, Kid."

Blaine offered him a reassuring smile. "It doesn't happen quite that often—especially in this century. Besides, I can still meet up with my friends when we have our quarterly meetings, and I can access any media I would like to pass the time."

"Friends?" Burt latched onto the word and Blaine nodded.

"Yes."

"People like you?"

"Yes," Blaine confirmed, but contributed no more, and Burt took the hint.

"Well, I suppose that's something at least," Burt grumbled mostly to himself. He cleared his throat and said, "All right we need to set up some ground rules."

Kurt shot him a questioning look. "Rules?"

Burt eyed his son. "Did you think I'd forget so easily that you've been hiding a boy in your room for—when did you find Blaine?"

Kurt dropped his eyes to his lap and muttered, "A month ago."

"Right. A month. I'm not comfortable with Blaine hanging out in your room late into the night; it's not appropriate—even if he's staying in his lamp," Burt rushed to finish when Kurt looked ready to argue. He turned to Blaine who was sitting tensely and seemingly bracing himself for some kind of attack.

"So, I would appreciate it if you stayed in the guest room during the night until Kurt makes his wishes," Burt said. “Feel free to make use of the bed.”

Blaine visibly relaxed at the request. "I have no problem with staying in your guest room, Mr. Hummel, but it's not necessary for me to use the bed."

“You're stuck in that lamp enough as it is, don't you think?” Burt reasoned. “You can do with sleeping in a real bed for once.”

"It's actually quite comfortable in my lamp," Blaine defended albeit meekly and not bothering to correct the older man in his assumption of his vessel. The less people knew about that, the better. "I recently acquired a Tempur-Pedic mattress, and it's like sleeping on a cloud."

Burt shot him a doubtful look.

"It really is okay, Mr. Hummel," Blaine insisted. "I can assure you I'm quite fine in my coffee press—"

"Your what now?"

"Er...my lamp." Blaine stammered out. "I'm quite fine in my lamp."

Burt eyed him for a few seconds. "Okay,” he finally relented. “I can’t force you to agree, but I’m going to have to insist that when Kurt and I aren't here, you can roam about the house wherever you like and can help yourself to whatever you see in the fridge."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Blaine objected, eyes wide. "I can conjure up food if I would like to eat."

"And I expect to see you at Friday night dinners," Burt continued as if Blaine hadn't spoken. "I don't know if Kurt told you, but we eat at least one meal together every week. It's something Ann started and it's important to this family, and I'd appreciate it if you honored this tradition at the very least."

Blaine sat there stunned and slightly slack-jawed. "I...I wouldn't want to intrude, Sir." Blaine stuttered out, clearly flustered at the very idea of imposing on his Master's time with his father.

Burt waved his hand as if the motion alone would brush away Blaine's concerns. "You ain't intruding, Kid," he assured him.

Blaine feebly shook his head. "But Mrs. Hudson and Finn sometimes come over to have dinner with you on Fridays," he pointed out. "I'm not comfortable with too many people meeting me and questioning who I am," he confessed. "It will complicate matters with you and Master."

It took a few seconds for Burt to process Blaine calling Kurt master, but after that he could understand Blaine's point. "Okay. When Carole and Finn are over, you can be excused," Burt allowed, "but only then. So, do we have a deal?"

Burt held out his hand and Blaine stared at it for quite some time.

“Why are you doing this?” Blaine finally asked needing to know. “I’m not anyone, and once Master makes his wishes, you won’t see me again. Well, unless he passes me on to you,” he amended. “But even then it will still end the same.”

“I may not know much about this hocus pocus mumbo jumbo, Blaine, but you’re still _somebody_ ,” Burt said sternly and intent on making him understand. “I don’t know how your previous...” Burt grimaced momentarily, not liking to use the word ‘master’ as it left a bad taste in his mouth, but pushed it down to finish his point. “...masters treated you, but you’re still a person—and a teenager besides—and you’ll be treated as one for as long as you’re here.”

“I’m not actually a tee—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re older than you look,” Burt cut him off with a wry smile, but was still doubtful to believe him. He didn’t know how old Blaine actually was, but no matter the number years under his belt, Blaine still, for the most part, acted and behaved like a teenager, if the time he spent with him today was any indication. Still, he didn't know if this was because all genies behaved this way, or if this was just how Blaine acted, or whatever else. Nonetheless, it didn’t change how he felt about this situation. “I don’t see it that way though,” he laid out. “So, I’m sorry to say, but as long as you’re under my roof, you’re going to be treated like any other one of Kurt’s friends.”

Blaine didn’t know how to respond to that. This was entirely unprecedented. He never had a Master or his Master's family behave like this before—as if he was just any other ordinary boy. He didn't know what to do.

"My dad is pretty stubborn, Blaine." Blaine snapped his head up at the sound of Kurt's voice. Kurt, who, until this moment, had kept quiet during this entire exchange. His Master smiled at him reassuringly. "It's best if you just agree with him on this one."

Blaine bit his lip uncertainly as he continued to mull it over. There weren't any rules about this. So, at the very least, he wouldn't cause Wes to develop an ulcer (if that was even possible) if he agreed.

He had to admit that the gesture was...nice and left him with a feeling he couldn't quite name. It was almost like eating a warm bowl of soup after coming in from a cold storm. It was a very long time since Blaine felt that way. Not since the last time he was with his family, quietly celebrating his sixteenth birthday at the estate. Not since everything changed.

He wanted to feel that way again—wanted that so much, but genies weren't allowed to want. Genies were only there to serve. Centuries of being told so made it very difficult to act otherwise.

A soft hand covered his before gently tugging his fingers away from where they were grasping his sweater. Blaine's eyes trailed up the length of the arm to see Kurt kneeling on the floor beside his feet. "Blaine," Kurt said voice soft and kind. "Just say yes."

In light of Kurt's smile and his father's sincere offer, Blaine nodded jerkily before tentatively reaching out and firmly shaking Burt's hand. "It's a deal, Sir," he said, voice mostly steady. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. I...I will try my best to abide by all your rules."

"Great! Glad that's settled." Burt grinned and clapped him once on the back. "You're grounded for a week." This he directed to his son, who immediately balked.

"Don't give me that look, Kid. You've been lying to me for over a month. You and I are going to have a serious talk about this later, but for now, no going out if it's not to school, no TV, and no video chatting on your computer."

"Dad—"

"I can make it two weeks, Kurt."

Kurt pressed his lips tightly together before muttering a fine.

Overwhelmed with guilt, Blaine spoke up to plead Kurt's case. "Mr. Hummel, I asked Kurt not to tell you about me. So, it's actually my fault—not Kurt's—that he lied. I should be the one who's punished."

Burt rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Uh, I don't feel right grounding you, Kid, and Kurt made his choice so it is what it is."

Blaine frowned before his face lit up. "Then I'll be grounded too! Since I can't go outside, I'll just clean the house, but without magic. You mentioned your attic needing some work."

"Blaine you don't have to do that—especially since you haven't actually _seen_ our attic," Kurt said, trying to talk him out of it.

Blaine ignored him. "Is that fair, Sir?"

Burt shrugged. "I have a feeling you're not going to listen to me anyway. So, knock yourself out, Kid."

Blaine beamed and Kurt dropped his forehead into his hand in exasperation. "You're unbelievable, do you know that?"

Blaine just continued to smile.

Burt laughed, clapping Blaine once more on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, Kid."

Oh.

Blaine felt his stomach flip flop, but in a good way. He glanced uncertainly over to Kurt who had his right cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Kurt mouthed a "you are ridiculous" in his direction that made Blaine smile slow and bright.

It didn’t falter even as his canaries suddenly began to sing a rousing rendition of [_Walking on Sunshine_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPUmE-tne5U) to the bemusement of everyone in the room.

“Does this happen a lot?” Burt asked, eyes trailing after the yellow birds flying around the room.

"More often than you'd think," Kurt replied dryly.

Burt shook his head in disbelief. "You found an interesting one," he told Kurt as Blaine rose from his seat and began praising the birds for staying on key and in rhythm.

Kurt let out a small huff of laughter, watching Blaine with fond exasperation. "Yeah. I think so too."


End file.
